four days
the roses have gleamed
and glowed
in the vase on the dining
room table
there were occasional
sideward glances
but no real rose to eye
contact
no real eye to rose
recognition

as the anniversary
celebration faded
everyone forgot the
beauty of the smell
as they stopped and
smiled and smiled again

but the roses held their essence
the roses held their color
completely aware of their journey
knowing how to begin
how to disappear

washington is in midnight
lights fade and click in succession
it is the motion of long dark hallways
the sweeping dance on a runway
it is the disappearance of shadows
a lone spotlight on Abraham Lincoln dims
no more fading , no more motion
no more dancing no more shadows
Lincoln relaxes into
dark remembrance
you can find midnight in washington
the motors are barely whirring
computers tap in contrary rhythms
everything sputters
everything shuts down
everyone stops speaking
everyword is forgotten
no breath
no wheezing
no crying
actual silence
overnight fires consume the earth
water and ice extinguish flames
earth is now a black and brown sphere
there is true silence
not a plant, not an insect, no animal, no human, no hint of humanity
there is no sound
not even the growth of one blade of grass
the earth is unearth
charred non remembrance
it will be a long wait
there is nothing to remember
washington isn`t in anywhere

it happened one night
the room was very dark in
shadows, was almost
invisible
footsteps hushed to whispering
a potted chrysanthemum was
placed on a tabletop
doors closed inaudibly
deep pink flowers
within the midnight
when the chrysanthemums faded
they were replaced by brilliant crocuses
no coming or going was discovered
this occurred for many lifetimes
movement wasn`t perceived
a mystery
an unknown story a hidden miracle

my father came to my meditation
to exchange
bodies with me and said
“roses cover the earth
because of patience”
“sunflowers inhabit the air
so that the soul may shine”
a lilac ascends
a s four o`clocks
open
we must all listen
step softly
hush

when i was young and clear with love
and every breath was full of song
i’d sit within the highest tree

and every leaf would smile to me
i didn’t care to be alone
western winds would whisper poems

when i was young i’d harmonize
til every tune was in my face
the wrens and robins joined my voice
and soon a choir became rejoice
when i was young and clear with love
when i was young and soaked with love

when i was young and love was young
my every pore was still in tune
i’d spread my ears to every chord
when i was young and clear with love
when i was young and soaked with love
when i was young, when i was young

now i am old and clear with wisdom
my body wrinkled in a prayer
my heart grows tired with every anthem
my soul id still a shining jewel
i sing all day but very softly
when i am old and filled with grace



we stood in the middle
of the crossroads,
three of us.
two roads pointing
in different
directions, we spoke in whispers
our voices
echoed
across
the fields
he, with the fuzzy face,
placing each syllable
in a special spot
on my soul
each word removed a chunk of me.
she, in her small way,
had no face
only bright, shining, intense heat.
the scorching sun melted tears.
they walked straight ahead
i turned left
i didn’t dare look
back
they had forgotten me
they were
erased





christmas lights dim
                voices fall from floating
                  incense and candle smoke
                                      mix with wind
tranquil shapes hold blessings
                     there is absolute solitude
'when no one is listening
                           it's     time for drums'
                                    the beat of the drums is sacred
      do not speak         do not move              do not breathe
             sanctus              sanctus                  sanctus
      
the amount of wine he left in the bottle
   was minimal
        it was almost nothing.
he spoke of the vineyards
                visited in France
                  sometimes he was the only guest,
a table was set just for him.
         i could picture him feeling like
                                        a prince or king,
                                       tasting an elixir, 
smiling widely as he swallowed the magic.

we talked for several hours
            remembering acoustical wonders
                                   where he played and i sang
                                   music had held us very close
                                   to each other
now we were joined by a thin vapor
                      a fragile remembrance
next day when i drank the remaining wine
              i smiled and tasted our good fortune 
                              
the sound of the power wash from next door
reminded me of the presence of pterodactyls
from long gone centuries
                in the early morning they would circle our valley
                      searching for prey,
baby pterodactyls would mimic the flight of their elders
             they would swoop without reason

               we would hide all day
                       while    they hunted
                   our own smell          disguised
                                with
                           stegosaurus blood
in deep night we crawled among  low    bushes
        never moving a leaf or branch
                           foraging for left over insects and 
                             mammals
hoping there was enough for the cooking fire in the cave
             we had not been discovered
                    no human touched by the thrashing beaks
early morning came               we slid back to our caves
                   renewed our cover

all day as we slept
           we could hear the powerful wings flapping and soaring
we prayed to the fire gods            and the night gods 
                      for protection
                      from    extinction




watching the late autumn sky
descending, darkening, touching
the garden
calla lilies are softly humming
lightly skipping
sweetly singing
a mandarin, a tangelo and a sumo orange
watch with me and smile
toward the perrier can
subtle breezes move everything
in this moment we are all safe
under the eyes of the St.Francis fountain within the care of wandering cats
a swaying pink hyacinth lounges in the shadowing window